It's you I have loved
by Rest.Assured
Summary: Qui-gon/Obi-wan Smutty, fluffy, oneshot. Nc-17.


Title: It's you I have loved  
Series: Star Wars  
Pairing: Qui-gon/Obi-wan  
Rating: NC-17

* * *

Two bodies rubbed together, surrounded by a sea of tangled bed sheets that had been kicked away to ventilate their hot flesh. Completely unclothed and with no space between them, the two males felt completely at ease in the sheltering cloak of the night.

"Obi-wan…" The elder panted, breaking their mouths that had been connected in fervent kisses for a miniature eternity. His voice was rough and low and saturated with a primal need, summing up his desires in a desperate growl meant to be a name.

"Master…" The young padawan whispered in the most pleading of voices. Qui-gon cupped his apprentice's face which felt so soft and smooth between his big, coarse hands and demanded reentry into his wet mouth, tasting and savoring him in lusty, heavy kisses.

Obi-wan arched beneath his master, pushing his narrow-framed hips up to meet his. He felt physically small in the presence of his teacher, but safe and well protected in his embrace. Clasping his arms around Qui-gon's neck in an encouraging hold, Obi-wan gripped at his master's silky hair and rolled his hips which inaudibly screamed his intentions for them.  
The elder drowned himself in his padawan's presence;

The sight of his naked body, trembling with excited anticipation.

The sweet smell of him, perfuming his nostrils with the most intoxicating, seductive scent.

The incomparable taste of him, producing the only flavor that could satisfy his aching hunger.

The sound of his voice, panting and puffing hot breaths in his ear, mewling the most delicious whimpers and cries he'd ever heard.

And, oh, the feel of him! A hot, sleek, angelic perfection beyond fathoming. It was as if every dip and curve of his body was made so that Qui-gon's hands may fit there. The contour of his neck, the velvetiness of his inner thighs! It was enough to melt the icy composure of the stoic Jedi into a sopping mess.

"Oh, please, Master…_please_…" The padawan gasped, undulating his hips, begging. There was nothing in all the universes that Qui-gon would have liked more than to simply bury himself into the ready body of his apprentice, but his reasoning held him back by painful reigns. He broke from his padawan, hovering over him, searching his face with eyes burdened by indecision,

"Obi-wan…I am supposed to be your master; one who is calm and composed and far from impulsive…one who does not put his personal desires before good judgment. I've worked hard to set a good example for you…What would you think of me if I destroyed all of that by breaking the very rules I have taught you to live by?"

They rested in darkness, a breath away from each other, filling the silence with their gasps for air. Then gently, amiably, the younger stroked his master's face, forgiving him of whatever conscience that was his torture with one glance of his serene, blue eyes,

"You have already shown me that you are a competent Jedi Master. Now show me that you are human."

And it was then, with those exact words, that Qui-gon was set free. Free from the restrictions he had put on himself, free from any guilt that may have followed, free to hold Obi-wan, and merge with him, and love him beyond all limitation.

First his mouth. Qui-gon attacked his padawan's lips with forceful kisses until they were a glistening pink.

Then his neck. Running his tongue down his chin and over his Adam's apple, Qui-gon found himself there, nibbling and licking.

Then his chest. Qui-gon rubbed and suckled the two, sensitive nubs of flesh until they pebbled.

Then his stomach. Qui-gon made sure to coat every inch of the soft area with his mouth, enjoying the texture that was not still the tender belly of a boy, and not yet the hardened abdominals of a man.

Then his hips. Qui-gon adored how they protruded from his slender frame ever so slightly and placed himself in the valley between them.

Then, yes, finally.

Obi-wan gave the most beautiful lovecall into the night as Qui-gon placed his mouth around him. Instantly, heat pooled to the area and the padawan felt as if he had been submerged in what felt like hot, velvety oil. The sensation alone caused his hips to automatically buck and he clamped a hand over his mouth to silence the embarrassing noises his master so effortlessly coaxed from him.

Qui-gon sucked him hungrily and Obi-wan dared not tear his eyes away from the beguiling sight that was his master causing him such pleasure. Propping himself up on one elbow, Obi-wan extended his other hand to clutch a loose fistful of his master's silken locks, which fell in between his thighs and tickled as they brushed up against them with the bobbing motion. The young apprentice knew that if he allowed himself to enjoy his master's mouth too much longer, he'd undoubtedly spill himself, which he wasn't quite ready to do.

"Master…i-inside. Please, come inside."

Qui-gon raised his eyes to meet his padawan's, noticing that his cheeks were tinted pink with blush, and eagerly obeyed his wishes. Spreading his apprentice's wobbly legs even farther apart, the master moved lower still, until he positioned himself at the entrance of the youth's backside, lubricating him in the most natural of ways, probing and loving the taut ring of muscle with a determined tongue.

Obi-wan enriched the night air with breathy, almost feminine noises as he attempted to cope with the overwhelming bliss, arching and squirming. Qui-gon thought his student's attempts to be terribly adorable and held him securely by the hips so that he could generously supply with even more.

Once the younger was unquestionably wet, Qui-gon lifted himself, sitting upright and staring at the quivering mess that was Obi-wan. Knowing his padawan's eyes were locked upon him, he proceeded with the most careful ease, gently grabbing a hold under his legs and placing the bend of his knees upon his shoulders. Once they were in place, Qui-gon advanced forward slightly, leaning over to kiss the object of his craving, which cause the younger's hips to lift from the bed.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," Obi-wan quavered in a nervous but sincere whisper.

With one more kiss, Qui-gon positioned himself before him and in one slow but fluid motion, pushed in.  
Obi-wan screamed, Qui-gon hissed. The younger threw his arm's around his elder's back, embracing him in a relentless hold, trying to stabilize himself. His slender hips jerked up in a spasm and his entrance tightened tenfold, attempting to stop the unfamiliar intrusion.

Qui-gon grit his teeth at the blindingly pleasant sensation. Obi-wan's rigid ring of muscle strangled him in an unyielding hold, so much so that he had to splay his hands over the youth's cheeks, burry his thumbs in, and stretch him as to fully immerse himself in the hilt.

Obi-wan's fingers were pressing bruises into his back, but Qui-gon hardly cared. He met his mouth in an open, sloppy kiss which half-muffled their cries as he started to move.  
Back and forth, in and out. As on as the Jedi exited the hot, tight heaven, he instantly replaced himself thereafter, gaining a rhythm. Obi-wan was moaning all sorts of wordless music which Qui-gon drowned himself in, rocking his limber body beneath his own, cradling him.

The pressure built cruelly fast and soon release was not too far beyond them. Obi-wan buried his face into his master's neck and wrapped his legs around his waist, crying out some startled noise which broke into a gasp for air half-way,

"Master, _please_!"

By way of his own body, Qui-gon assured him that he wouldn't have to beg; he would never deny his dear apprentice anything. Busied muscles froze, breath and voice hitched in their throats. Slick flesh slid over slick flesh in a last, finalizing thrust into ecstasy. Exasperated cries, hot liquid, and it was over.

Qui-gon collapsed from pure exhaustion but rolled to the side shortly afterwards as to not burden the smaller with his weight, pulling out of him tenderly. The once-still night was now saturated with a muggy heat, loud gasps for lost air, and an atmosphere of sex. Both were spent, both were sticky, and both were utterly satisfied. After their breathing had returned to normal, both sought comfort in the arms of their other half.

"I love you, Obi-wan." The Jedi-master whispered in his gravely voice; admitting it to his padawan, admitting it to himself, admitting it to the world and anyone in it who dared to challenge the fact. And with the same voice that had set him free, Obi-wan recaptured his master's heart,

"And I, you, Master."

* * *

THE END


End file.
